


Legacy

by queenseamoose



Series: The Force Shall Free Me [2]
Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic
Genre: Adoption, Infertility, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-04
Updated: 2018-02-04
Packaged: 2019-03-13 07:59:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13566252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenseamoose/pseuds/queenseamoose
Summary: Now on the Dark Council, Alayne prepares for her future, but an unexpected discovery from her past threatens her plans.





	Legacy

The crew is asleep, and they’re almost undressed on the bridge of the Fury when Andronikos abruptly pulls away. “Ah. Wait,” he groans, and stumbles to his feet, picking up articles of clothing as he goes. “I forgot...gotta run to the medbay real quick.”

Alayne sighs, and straightens in the pilot’s seat, tugging her robe back over her shoulder. This is a conversation she’s been meaning to have for a while, and now seems as good a time as any. “I don’t think you should.”

“Hmm?” He’s not paying any attention, one hand braced against the bulkhead as he tries to stuff a foot back into a boot, and she rolls her eyes. Of course she has to spell everything out.

“I think we should have a child.”

That gets his attention. He lets the boot fall to the deck with a thump, and then he’s back at her side, sinking to the floor.

“Yeah?” He crosses his arms atop her legs, resting his chin. “I know we talked about it, but...now?”

She scoffs. “Of course. What better time than now? I’m a Lord of the Dark Council. And the only surviving Kallig.”

His dark eyes are soft as he stares up at her, and she knows he understands what she’s not saying. He knows her fear—the only fear she has left at this point, really. No foe can stand against her, but no matter how great her deeds, without a legacy it is all for nothing. When she dies, she will blink into obscurity, as though she never existed in the first place.

But Andronikos—bless him—is nodding. “Yeah,” he says. “Okay, sure.” He pauses. “You think we can put Khem on babysitting duty?”

She feels her face break into a genuine smile at that, and she laughs as she slips down to the floor beside him. “I think he would despise me if I did.” She smirks. “All the more reason to go through with it.

He’s the one laughing now, and she feels that frenzied shadow that’s hung over her since her ascension ease ever so slightly. A year from now, everything will be different. They’ll be parents, and she’ll have cemented the first step of her legacy.

* * *

It’s a rare sunny day in Kaas City, and the shadows created by the pale watery sunshine outside the windows of the med center are further contributing to her overall sense of wrongness. It’s been months, and she’s no closer to her goal than she was that night on the bridge. What she can’t understand is _why_. They’re both young, healthy, and Andronikos’ numbers are ‘most impressive’ as the med droid puts it. That leaves the only other possible conclusion, that there’s something wrong with _her_. And so here she is, sitting alone in a sterile room, waiting for the med droid to bring her her test results.

The whir of the door startles her from her thoughts, and her stomach flips over on itself as the med droid bustles in. “My apologies for the delay, my lord,” it intones in its metallic voice. “I have your test results right here.” The droid taps at a nearby terminal, and she watches the data fill the screen.

“Tell me what I’m seeing,” she says, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Hormone levels, genetic scans, cellular readings—and the results are most interesting. Do you have a full record of your medical history, my lord? I’m sure previous procedures would offer a much more thorough explanation.”

How can a damn machine sound so _snide?_ And she can’t say she likes what it’s saying--previous procedures? Interesting _how?_ And what could possibly be in her childhood medical records that would have anything to do with this?

“The results,” she says through gritted teeth. She’s rarely one to use a Force choke, but it’s taking all her concentration not to crush this insufferable hunk of metal into a solid block. “What did the tests say?”

* * *

She doesn’t say a word the whole way out of the med center, through Kaas City, and back to the spaceport. It’s only when they’re in hyperspace and she’s barricaded herself in her quarters that she allows herself to fall apart.

“How _dare_ they?” she seethes, pacing across the tiny room yet again. “Of all the insults and indignities, this— _this_ is by far the most unforgivable.”

Among the snippets of information she’d obtained from the med droid—before she fried out every last one of its circuits beyond repair—had been that her struggles with conceiving appeared to be intentional, thorough—and irreversible. It didn’t take much of a mental leap to make the connection to Wobani.

“ _How dare they?_ ” she repeats. She can feel herself growing more and more frantic. “That choice should have been _mine_ alone to make.” She’s beginning to crumble, and she sags down on the edge of the bed. “And now the line dies with me.”

“Hey.” Andronikos leaps up from his chair in the corner and kneels by her side. “Hey, no. Fuck that.” He looks furious—she’s only ever seen him like this when he faced down Wilkes. And now his anger is on her behalf, and there is some level of comfort in that—no matter how small. “You don’t need a kid to carry on a legacy,” he says, grasping her hands tightly. “You’re a lord on the Dark Council. You got two incredible apprentices. You’re the future, remember?”

 _Of the Empire and of the Sith._ Her own words sound so foreign, as though they took place a lifetime ago. But he is right. Despite everything, she does honestly believe it.

“You’re Sith,” he says, and his eyes shine so bright with devotion. “You’ve only just started making your mark on the galaxy.”

She loves him. She loves him _so much_ , and she’ll never say so because that’s just not their way. But he knows. He knows, and he loves her too.

“Get up here,” she says instead, tugging him up onto the bed beside her. He doesn’t say a word when she throws her arms around him and buries her face in his chest, but they stay that way for a long, long time.

* * *

“Lord Valerion.” The figure on the holo bows in greeting. “Or I understand it’s Darth Nox now. Congratulations. It’s an honor to have served under a member of the Dark Council.

“Thank you, Yudrass,” Alayne replies. “You wanted to speak with me? How are things on Hoth?”

The Chiss officer’s face twists into a grimace, and she feels a faint ripple in the Force. Something is definitely up.

“In truth, they are not going well,” he admits, and she takes note of the tiny furrow between his brows. Something is wrong. “The Republic has taken the entire southern sector, and we’re losing ground daily.”

“And why are we not pushing them back?” She scowls, and his head dips slightly.

“We are, my lord. We’re mobilizing our troops and preparing for a ground assault.”

 _Hmmmm…_ “I’m not far,” she says. “Could you use a Sith on the ground with you?” She’s itching for a fight, a distraction to channel all her wrath into.

“It would be an honor, my lord,” he says, and she gives a quick, brittle smile.

“Good. Prepare for my arrival,” she says briskly. “When I get there we will wipe them out.”

* * *

Hoth hasn’t changed. She steps off the shuttle in a swirl of snowflakes, and  instantly cringes at the blast of icy wind that follows. True to his word, Yudrass steps forward to meet her, the snowflakes blending into his greying hair—and if she’s not mistaken, he’s hiding a grin as he drops to one knee. “Darth Nox,” he says, “as always, it is an honor.”

“The honor is mine, Yudrass,” she says as he rises, and they fall in step alongside each other. “What’s the current situation?"

“Much as it was last time we spoke, although we are preparing for the first wave of our assault.” He glances at her. “That is, if your lordship is is ready.”

Alayne snorts. “Yudrass,” she says, igniting her lightsaber, “I was born ready.”

The Republic puts up a good fight, and it’s exactly what she’s been craving. The Force flows through her as she moves across the battlefield, an unwavering, unrelenting force of destruction. She practically dances through their enemies, just her and her saber spinning together as one. No one can oppose her—and any who tries is immediately cut down.

But there’s something else. A faint flicker of warning cuts through her gleeful delirium, and she immediately grabs for her comm. “Yudrass! Incoming!” But it’s too late—she winces as the explosion crackles through the comm, but she feels it too, the ground shuddering beneath her feet. It staggers her, and in the brief moment it takes her to rise, a cluster of frightened-looking soldiers have already gathered in front of her.

“My lord! Orders?” one of them asks, and she narrows her eyes at him.

“I assume we have our own missiles?”

“Of course, my lord.”

“Then get them ready and _strike back!_ Go!”

“Right away, my lord!” As they scurry off, she turns back to the comm in her hand. Yudrass still hasn’t responded, and she feel a faint prickle of apprehension rising in her stomach.

“Yudrass, do you read me? What’s the damage look like on your end?” But she’s only met with a faint, staticky hum of silence. She frowns, tapping the comm as she tries again. “Yudrass?”

* * *

 She’s been an outsider plenty of times in her life, but the atmosphere at Yudrass’ funeral is particularly agonizing. She doesn’t know any of these people, and quite frankly, she doesn’t want to--but their stares and whispers are a little too obvious, and the whole thing is getting out of hand. They’re afraid of her, as they should be, and normally she would relish at how their fear hangs thick and heavy in the air, but at a private time like this, it feels incredibly invasive. All she wants to do is say goodbye to her friend, not put on a show for a bunch of Imperial nobodies that she’ll never see again.

She stares grimly ahead at Yudrass’ flag-draped coffin as the other attendees mill about her. _Peace is a lie,_ she reminds herself, slipping her eyes shut, _there is only passion._ She takes a deep breath in, feeling the Force as it moves around her. _Through passion, I gain strength._ Every presence in this room is a ripple, and there is a small bit of comfort to be found as she singles out the signatures of her crewmates. _Through strength, I gain power. Through power_ \--

Her concentration breaks and her eyes slip open. There’s another presence here, strange yet somehow familiar, and amongst all the other sparks of life, this one glows like a flame. She rises to her feet, scanning the crowd for the source. And there—a young Chiss boy standing on the edge of the crowd, accompanied by a protocol droid.

She frowns. “Tritan,” she asks, turning to the officer who has been annoyingly hovering by her side all evening, “who is that boy?”

He instantly recognizes who she’s talking about. “Ah,” he sighs. “Of course. Yuhanos. Yudrass’ son.”

“I didn’t know Yudrass had a family,” she remarks as she watches the child. His face is wobbling with tears, and under his arm he clutches a ragged stuffed animal. She can’t believe Yudrass never mentioned it before—they’d frequently chat about non-Empire related matters, and he himself had been present at her wedding.

“Just the boy, apparently. No mother, and no other relatives. He never did like to say much on the matter.”

“And what will happen to the child now?” The droid appears to be asking him a question, and he repeatedly shakes his head, lifting a fist to scrub at his eyes.

“Oh, he’ll be made a ward of the Empire. Yudrass did leave behind some funds, after all. There are a number of academies that would be happy to accept him.”

Sorrow and strength both burn bright as they radiate from the boy in equal measures, and she bites her lip. “Excuse me, Tritan,” she says quickly before dashing off into the crowd. It only takes only a few moments to find Andronikos—he’s having a conversation with Talos on the edge of the room, and judging by the latter’s expression, it’s probably a story from his pirate days. She rolls her eyes as she approaches and takes hold of Andronikos’ arm. “Excuse me, Talos,” she says, “but I need a word with my husband.”

Talos says something in reply, but she’s already ushering Andronikos down a nearby hallway. “Something the matter?” he chuckles, but she sees the tiny furrow between his eyebrows. She takes a deep breath as she meets his gaze.

“Ashara and Xalek are both powerful, but I don’t want to rely on apprentices to carry on my legacy. I want a child,” she says firmly. “Even if I don’t give birth to one myself.” Her mind is made up, one way or another, but she still wants him with her on this. And to her utter relief, his expression clears.

“So we’ll adopt,” he says. “I know a guy on Rishi—we can even take out some slavers on the way.”

She loves this man. So much so that she almost blurts it out on the spot. “No,” she says instead. “I don’t think we’ll need to wait quite that long.”

He raises an eyebrow. “You’ve already got something in mind.”

“I do,” she says—and then quickly relates her plan.

* * *

 Three hours, two arguments, and one Force push (against that fussy protocol droid) later, she’s stepping into a dimly-lit room in the heart of the base. At first glance, it appears empty—but then she spies a shock of deep blue hair sticking up from the other side of the bed. “Yuhanos?”

The boy glances up from where he sits on the floor, surrounded by toys, although he doesn’t say a word. Why does she suddenly feel nervous? “My name is Alayne,” she says as she slowly approaches. “May I sit down?”

He stares at her in silence then gives a brief nod. Although he ducks his head as she sinks to the floor beside him, she catches a glimpse of the puffiness around his eyes—and the moisture still glittering there. He’s clearly been crying, but still trying to put up a brave front.

“I’m sorry to hear about your father,” she says, idly picking up a nearby stuffed animal—a wampa, by the looks of it. “He was a brilliant soldier who served the Empire well. And a good friend.” Yuhanos doesn’t reply, but when she glances over, he’s ducked his chin down to his chest, his eyes scrunched shut. “Do you miss him?”

“Yes.” His voice, barely more than a whisper, breaks on that single note, and she sighs to herself, pressing her lips together. Maybe she hadn’t thought this through well enough.

“I understand that you’re grieving,” she says. “As you have every right to.” She pauses before continuing. “But you also need to be thinking about your future.” He’s silent once more, and she turns her attention to the stuffed wampa she holds. “Yuhanos, what do you know of the Sith?”

For the first time, he lifts his head, his red gaze meeting hers. “That’s what you are,” he blurts out—then quickly ducks his head again. She slowly nods.

“I am indeed Sith,” she says. The seconds tick on as she fiddles with one of the wampa’s arms. “But do you know what the Sith _are?_ ”

“My dad says they have powers,” he says, and his use of present tense doesn’t escape her notice. “They can shoot lightning from their hands...and see the future. And they carry laser swords.” One tiny blue finger brushes along the hilt of her own lightsaber, where it rests on the floor between them, and she bites back the instinct to snap at him to keep his hands off.

“All true, among other things,” she says. “But do you know where our powers come from?” He shrugs, and she continues. “From the Force. From the very energy of life itself. You know what I’m talking about, don’t you?”

She’s got his attention now, and he lifts his head, tears drying as he intently stares. “You can feel it, too,” she murmurs. “Everyone always says you have good instincts, don’t they? You see things more clearly than most people. Am I right?”

His silence is his answer, and slowly, his face fills with wonder. “I’d like to make you an offer,” she continues. “If I adopt you, you can come with me to Dromund Kaas. I could train you to be Sith.” His expression turns wary, and her heart sinks.

“I know this is all very sudden,” she says, “and I am truly sorry it has to be this way.” Setting the stuffed wampa down on the edge of the bed, she rises. “Think about it. I’ll still be on Hoth for a while longer.” And then she sails out of the room.

* * *

 Andronikos is waiting at the end of the hallway, and he pushes off the wall as she approaches. “How’d it go?” he asks, and she grimaces, shaking her head.

“I don’t know,” she admits. “The loss is still too new, and he’s not taking this well.” They fall in step alongside each other on the way to their borrowed quarters for the night. “I could take him regardless.” The thought had actually been the first to cross her mind. “But I…” She feels the last of her strength drain away as they cross the threshold and the door hisses shut behind them. “I want him to _want_ to come with us. I want him to _choose_ it. It’s his decision to make.”

“And if he says no?” Andronikos raises an eyebrow, and she draws in a breath.

“Then he’s not fit to be Sith. And we’ll be paying a visit to your friend on Rishi, won’t we?” She unclips her lightsaber from her belt and holds it for a moment, thinking. All she’s ever wanted is to be Sith. What a happy accident her kidnapping all those years ago had turned out to be. But in light of the past week’s events, all she can think about are _other_ decisions the Empire has made for her. Decisions she longs to reverse.

“I can call him tomorrow.” Andronikos is already stretched out in bed, and as she settles beside him, his hand trails over her hip. She hesitates, feeling suddenly torn. Over the past few months, every time they’ve touched each other has been about a baby. And now that that’s never going to happen, she wants to simply be with her husband again. But she’s not sure she wants to figure out how to do that here or now.

“Go to sleep, Andronikos,” she says instead, her hand reaching up to his face taking the sting from her words. “I’ve got an early morning.” And to his credit, he only nods.

“Sure.” Sleep doesn’t come easily, but when it does, it finds her wrapped in his arms as he snores away.

* * *

“No.” She adamantly shakes her head as she begins to pace the length of the room. “Absolutely not.” Across the table, Tritan huffs, and she swears she sees him roll his eyes.

“But my lord,” he protests, his voice bordering on a whine, and she grits her teeth together.

“I don’t care.” She whirls on him, eyes blazing. “Tritan, you’re useless. You were incompetent years ago, and you still are today. Now if you want to hold onto this position you’ve conveniently wormed your way into, get whatever you have left back out there and engaged with the Republic, or so help me--”

“Darth Nox?”

The interruption comes out of nowhere, and she turns in surprise to see a timid-looking aide cowering away from her. But she also feels a flash of irritation—she’d left specific instructions that they were not to be disturbed until the briefing was over.

“Excuse me, we are in the middle of something here,” she snaps, her tone as icy as the walls surrounding them. Fear is rolling off of him in waves, but he stubbornly persists. She’s almost impressed. Almost.

“My lord, I am so sorry to interrupt, but you have a visitor.” And that’s when she sees him, the small boy hiding behind the aide, blue hair sticking in every direction and stuffed wampa clutched tightly beneath his jacket. Her heart instantly leaps into her throat.

“My apologies, this requires my attention.” She turns back to the officers, shooting an extra glare at Tritan. “I will return momentarily.” They nod in agreement, and the instant she steps out into the hallway the aide scurries off, leaving her alone with Yuhanos.

“Good morning, Yuhanos,” she greets him, cringing a little at how stiff she sounds. How _is_ one supposed to talk to kids anyhow? “Did you sleep well?” He nods, but keeps his gaze fastened securely on the ground, and she sighs. It’s easier to wrestle a ghost into her skull than to pry words out of this kid.

“Walk with me,” she says, sweeping off down the hallway and breathing a silent sigh of relief when he scurries along after her. Standing here is making her nervous, and the last thing she needs now is to have the fools on the other side of the door eavesdropping. Damn Yudrass for leaving her with this mess.

“I assume you’ve made a decision,” she says when they’re a safe enough distance away. This section of the tunnels is mainly deserted, mercifully free of prying eyes.

“Yes.” His voice is soft, barely a whisper, and she stops, turning to face him. It’s the first he’s spoken.

“And?” He doesn’t meet her gaze, but his grip on the wampa tightens, one of its arms dangling beneath the hem of his jacket. She can’t figure out what he’s staring at, but then she realizes his gaze is locked onto the lightsaber at her side.

“I want to do it.” His mouth draws into a line, and when he finally looks at her, she feels a tiny ripple of fear. “I want to go with you and be Sith.”

Something clenches deep inside her chest, and she slowly drops onto a bended knee until she’s at his eye level. “I think you’ve made a wise choice,” she says. He says nothing, but his fear lessens slightly. He’s still not quite at ease with her, and she can’t blame him—but the emotion emanating from him is more apprehension than outright terror. It’s a start, at least.

“We won’t leave for a few more days,” she continues. “You can pack your things and say goodbye to your friends. Then we will return to Dromund Kaas, and you will begin your journey toward becoming Sith.”

And there, the spike in his emotion, what she’s been hoping to feel from him. Excitement, anticipation—and beneath it all, a clear resolve. “I’m ready,” he says, and the smile flickers across her face before she can stop it.

“So you are,” she says. Her own excitement is building despite herself. The boy is meant for greatness, she can feel it. And suddenly, she feels like a new acolyte all over again, setting foot on Korriban for the first time. The legacy of the Kalligs isn’t over, it’s only beginning. Someday, the Dark Council itself will bow to her son.

* * *

Within the week, they’ve gained back the ground taken by the Republic, and despite her misgivings, Tritan is in charge. But she can’t bring herself to care about misguided leadership on a frozen outpost, because when she boards her ship again, it’s with her son at her side. He still has his reservations, she can tell—but he explores the ship with great interest, and he’s warmed up to her enough to tell her that the wampa’s name is Woolly. For whatever it’s worth, it’s a step in the right direction, and she is pleased. The hold is filled with his belongings, and they’ve set up temporary quarters for him in the medbay. And as the ship sails along through hyperspace, she stands silently in the doorway, watching as he sleeps.

She can feel Andronikos’ presence behind her, and then his arm settles around her shoulders. “So,” he says. “We have a son.”

“We have a son.” It’s so strange to say the words, and hard to believe it’s even happened. A week ago, it’d been impossible—and now here they are. The silence settles comfortably between them, and then Andronikos speaks again.

“Should I start teaching him to fly tomorrow?”

“He’s _four_ ,” she objects, and he playfully nudges her in the ribs.

“You heard what that droid said about Chiss maturity. Come on, the kid’ll be a natural.” Out of the corner of her eye, she catches a glimpse of his smirk, and she rolls her eyes.

“You should still count yourself lucky I let _you_ touch my ship,” she goads back, and he laughs.

“I do. Every day.”

The silence returns, and she leans her head against his shoulder. She is Sith. It’s what she was born to be, and it’s in her very blood. It is her nature to want more, and tomorrow, she will. But right here and now, she is surrounded by everything she could have ever asked for. And for this moment, it is enough.


End file.
